


all things soft and beautiful and bright

by gillanery



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: (river song voice) SPOILERS, Gen, MAKE IT HAPPEN, Resurrection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-20
Updated: 2014-03-20
Packaged: 2018-01-16 08:26:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1338721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gillanery/pseuds/gillanery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And when she died, all things soft and beautiful and bright were buried with her. Or, Lydia Martin brings Allison Argent back to life not with a whisper, but with a scream.</p>
            </blockquote>





	all things soft and beautiful and bright

**Author's Note:**

> two words: RESURRECTION. FIC.  
> (inspired by this http://orwecouldnot.tumblr.com/post/79944386007/okay-but-if-you-think-that-lydia-martin-just-sat)  
> i'm sorry this is crappy i just needed to let out my feelings i'm trash i'm sorry and because i'm predictable as hell, it's lydia-centric WHOOPS (all mistakes are mine please forgive)

People die around her and Lydia Martin screams. That’s the deal she didn’t sign, that’s the way it works. Death happens all around her but never to her. This is what she is now, the wailing woman. So she’ll scream.

But she never expected to be screaming for Allison. Not her, never her.

Lydia feels her _die_ and all she could do was scream. That’s all she has ever been able to do. Scream. She’s _done_ with that now.

-

She doesn’t know how long she sits there, tears streaming down her face, hands shaking, counting until the septendecillion when they finally come for her.

They exchange no words; there is nothing to be said.

-

Lydia can’t even look at the- the…body. She can’t even look at the body. The body of her best friend, her _best friend_. Her best friend is a _body_. She feels like she might throw up, like her knees are about to give away, but somehow she stands, and she walks away and she’s still standing.

-

When she finally, _finally_ gets home, her parents are already sitting in the living room, waiting for her. Her mother gasps when she sees her (“Lydia!”) but she’s already pulling her in for a hug. Her dad rubs her arm.

Lydia practically drags herself up the stairs, barely even listening to her mother go on about how sorry she is, is there anything she needs, anything she can do, just say the word Lydia, just say the word.

Lydia lets her mom tuck her in that night, lets her press a kiss to her hair. She lies on her side all night, staring at the wall, barely even blinking, barely even breathing.

She knows what she has to do.

-

Not even six hours after, Lydia barges into Dr. Deaton’s office.

“What do you know about resurrection?” It sounds like a question, but they both know it’s a demand.

“Miss Martin.” he says, sounding calm, but his eyes show a little surprise. She waits, cocks her eyebrow and her hip. He sighs. ”I’m sorry but you can’t do it.” he tells her, calm as ever, and for one single second, Lydia wants to throttle him. She’s being irrational, she knows, it is not in her nature to be violent, but right now all she wants to do is grab the vet by collar of his shirt and bang his head repeatedly on the table.

“Tell me what you know.” she says through clenched teeth. There’s no room – no _time_ – to play nice. Deaton stands up quietly, face smooth, which infuriates her to no end.

“I cannot help you. I’m sorry, Lydia.” _Liar_ , she wants to scream at him. She wants to demand, to _make_ him tell her, but she can’t. She’s no werewolf; she’s just an angry, terrified girl.

Lydia is running out of the building and slamming the door before he can say anything else.

-

“What are you doing?”

She has four different books spread on the floor, two translation charts and about six tabs opened in her computer. A mug of ice cold coffee sits beside her forgotten. Lydia doesn’t answer him, eyes flicking from the book to the translation back and forth.

“Lydia.”

“Don’t tell me that I can’t do this because I swear to _God_ -“

“Lydia, please just listen to me.” She doesn’t even turn her head in Stiles’ direction “Lydia, you- you can’t…” Her brow twitches as his voice trails away. “Have you even slept? Jesus, have you eaten? Lydia, you can’t bring her back, okay? She’s gone. She’s… Allison’s gone, Lyd-”

Lydia Martin is _furious_.

“I don’t care, Stiles!” she snaps at him, shouting. “I’m going to bring her back, I have to!” Lydia whirls around to face him. She pretends to not notice the way he flinches a little. “I’ve done it before, haven’t I? I can do it again. I have to.”

“Lydia, _please_.”

She huffs. There are a million things she could be doing, a million books she could be reading; she doesn’t have time for this. “No,” she says and Stiles shuts up. “You’re either with me, or you’re not.”

-

She ends up standing outside Derek’s place.

She doesn’t even knock, just walks in. She tries to not remember how only a few _days_ ago she was doing the exact same thing she is doing now, with Allison walking beside her. She tries to not remember Allison holding her hand, tries to not remember Allison electrocuting Peter for taking a step towards her, she tries to not remember Allison-

She fails.

“Whatever brings you here, Lydia?”  Peter Hale says, his tone mock sweetness, lips curled with a ghost of a smile.  She is too angry, too tired and worn out, to be, of all things, scared.

Lydia resists the desire to stab him in the jugular with the small knife hidden up her skirt. She counts to ten.

“Show me,” she says, voice hard, “how to bring a person back to life.”

Peter laughs.

-

Lydia kneels in front of Allison’s grave. She feels like it looks so normal, _too_ normal, just like any other grave in the cemetery. She tries to not think about how _the body of her_ _best friend_ is lying in a wooden box six feet underground.

 She traces Allison’s name with her fingers and she doesn’t know why, but she takes a deep breath and begins to talk. “Don’t…don’t worry, Allison. I’m going to get you back, okay? This is,” She cuts herself off and swallows, eyes burning. “This is where you belong. Here. With us. You belong here with us. Please just-”

She stops talking. Lydia stands up, hands and feet shaking, and goes back to her car and sits there for half an hour.

 _Please_ _just_ _come back._

-

Lydia Martin is cursed with death but God damn it all if she’s not going to give Allison life again. Damn it all even more if she’s not going to _try_.

-

Twenty eight hours later, Lydia finishes gathering all the things she needs for her little trip to the hospital where Gerard Argent is currently residing in when she hears someone knock on her door. She is greeted with the sight of Scott, with a haunted look in his eyes and Stiles, looking wearier than she has ever seen him.

 “Hi, uh. Hi.” Stiles says, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

“Hello.”

They stand there for a few beats. Lydia checks her watch. Scott looks at Lydia. Stiles pretends to be interested in the walls.

“I know what you’re trying to do.” Scott says, breaking the silence.

“Geez,” Lydia says to Stiles, “what a tattletale.” There’s no humor in her voice and nobody laughs.

“Don’t do this, Lydia, please.” Scott pleads, face scrunching up in anguish.

“Why does everyone keep telling me that? I’m just trying to get our best friend back!” she spits out, almost snarling.

“Do you even understand what you’re going to do? Lydia, you barely even know the extent of your powers, how are you even-”

Lydia hisses at that. Scott and Stiles look surprised. She’s acting hysterically, rashly. She’s scaring them.

Maybe hanging around monsters so much has finally paid off.

She sighs. “I miss her, okay? Scott, I miss her.” She closes her eyes to stop the burning in them. “I want her back and if you do too, then help me. You’re either with me, or you’re not.” She tells him, repeating the words she said to Stiles a day ago, willing herself to calm down.

She leaves them standing on her porch and drives to the hospital.

-

This is the easiest part, Lydia thinks, as she sneaks past the nurse and quickly finds Gerard’s room. She finds him sitting in front of an old looking T.V, staring off into nothing.

“You must be one of Allison’s friends. Here to give your condolences?”

“No, actually,” she says, “I’m here to do something a tad more different.” And then she knocks him out.

She supposes that she’ll feel a little bit bad about that later, maybe, but not now. She has bigger things to worry about; she’s so _close_ to having everything she needs for this. Nothing’s going to stop her now.

She gets enough blood from the gash she made in Gerard’s arm, zips up her purse, and walks away.

There is not time for regrets. Not now.

-

Thirty six and a half hours after, Lydia is standing outside the cemetery, candles, shovel, books and bag of blood in her hands.

She’s ready.

She walks calmly, with light steps, listening to the crickets chirping and the wind howl a little. She thinks it’s sort of funny. A creature of death walking through a cemetery with the intention of giving life _back_.

She reaches Allison’s tomb and wastes no time at all and starts to dig.  When she’s sure that she’s dug enough, she opens her book and starts lighting the candles. She ignores her shaking hands, she is not backing up, she can do this, and she’s come so far. She recites the mix of Greek and Latin and Hebrew, spills the blood over the casket, and then she feels it, the scream and another feeling bubbling up inside of her. She lets it out.

Lydia Martin screams again but for the first time, she also does a little bit more than that.


End file.
